In the corridor outside her prison-room two men had paused in heated argument.
"I tell you again, Astok," one was saying, "that I shall not do this thing unless you be present in the room."
There was little of the respect due royalty in the tone of the speaker's voice. The other, noting it, flushed.
"Do not impose too far upon my friendship for you, Vas Kor," he snapped. "There is a limit to my patience."
"There is no question of royal prerogative here," returned Vas Kor. "You ask me to become an assassin in your stead, and against your jeddak's strict injunctions. You are in no position, Astok, to dictate to me; but rather should you be glad to accede to my reasonable request that you be present, thus sharing the guilt with me. Why should I bear it all?"
The younger man scowled, but he advanced toward the locked door, and as it swung in upon its hinges, he entered the room beyond at the side of Vas Kor.
Across the chamber the girl, hearing them enter, rose to her feet and faced them. Under the soft
